Reflections
by fan-fic-writer-uk
Summary: Did Wekser show remorse as he died? Did Ada regret? Did Alfread realise that he lived little more in Alexia's shadow? Here as they're dying a number of RE 'baddies' look back over their lives & the events w/in them & come to some heartfelt conclusions
1. Death Of A Tyrant

Title: Reflections  
  
Author: fan_fic_writer_uk (Dan)  
  
Email: fan_fic_writer_uk@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Language: English  
  
Rating: G  
  
-By no doubt your wondering whether it is me, a teenage boy writing fan fics, who owns RE. I'm sorry to disappoint but alas (dramatic pose) I do NOT own RE  
  
a/n Yes I lied. I'm putting of doing some more of Wesker's Desire (written about 2 pages) in favour of writing another fic. Sorry if you read it and your waiting, hopefully when I do post it will be a long chapter. I'm also not sure whether to finally put Claire/Wesker together in the chapter I'm writing now, or make it two, I'll have to see .  
  
But anyway on with this fic as that's what your here to see,  
  
Reflections: Wesker's Death  
  
***  
  
As I begin to write this I can't help but laugh in amusement despite myself. All that will be left in a couple of hours of the mighty Albert Wesker will be a body and a letter, how ironic. If you haven't got what I mean from the last sentence I'll make it crystal clear, I'm dying. Go on laugh, I don't expect any less, it's what I would have done a few years back. Me? Die? A cold smile and an arrogant laugh would have followed suit, but not now, not anymore. A couple of years back I was invincible, a God compared to almost everyone else, but a lot has changed. Since then the advancements that have been made by Umbrella have been huge to say the least. And it's not just the T-virus that has been improved and almost perfected, it's its antibody as well. You probably don't have any idea what I'm talking about so I'll explain it to you, although I shouldn't, I'm living on borrowed time as it is, but no matter. You see Umbrella has grown increasingly worried about Tyrants such as myself (and there are a few of us). We've become dangerous to them, practically unstoppable, virtually immortal, a cause for concern, but no longer. Umbrella have in turn developed a way to combat the cancer to them that is us, a way to rid themselves of us for good (particularly myself, I blush with modesty). This antibody is brilliant I must admit, but of course I wish it wasn't. This antibody is a virus in its own right, well it is to people like me. You probably want to know what it does so I'll tell you. It destroys all mutated cells by the T-virus and it can of course be used as a vaccine in the stages of early infection, and that's what they pass it off as, a vaccine in case of contamination, but I know its ulterior purpose. For someone like me it means death, after all that's all I'm composed of, mutated cells. It spells destruction, it's as simple as that.  
  
But I'm painfully reminded about why I write this as my strength slowly ebbs away in my 'infected' body (don't bother asking how, I haven't got the time to explain). What has been written so far may have surprised but what I write below will truly shock you, I can hardly believe that I'm writing it myself, but I must.  
  
They say that death affects us all in the most profound of ways, more than joy, love or hate could ever do. The coldest, hardest, most emotionally dysfunctional person can be reduced to a blubbering mass. At a time I would have thought of this as pathetic, human weakness, I always promised myself that I wouldn't end life that way, I guess I lied. You see in these last few hours I've found something which I thought had left me long ago, a conscience and though I seriously doubt it, maybe a heart. These last few hours have given me time to think, space to think, a reason to think and I'm sure because of this I've learnt more about myself now than I ever have in my whole life. For once denial no longer seemed an appropriate choice, for once there was no point, what can possibly be worse than death?. But that's the thing about dying isn't it? It forces you to confront yourself, your real self. At no other time in your life is there a need, at least I never needed to, not once. But death's different, it's your last chance and I'm still unsure whether it is in fact a good thing to be forced to think like this. Never the less I can't ignore it, I have to delve into my emotions, my real emotions (at last). I'm not sure if you should read any further or if I should write anymore as I wonder if either you or I want to know the truth. However as I said I must, it's a compelling force, damn my weakness (at a time I wouldn't even have acknowledged I had a weakness, but why bother to fight it?)  
  
My emotions yes, they're both complex and simple. Complex in the way I both hide and fight with them, but simple in essence (like me perhaps?). And its these emotions which have surfaced in the last few hours, raw, real emotion that refuses to be ignored. It's powerful, both demanding and imploring it makes me take a cold, hard look at my life. It draws me to many things about my past, remind me that much grief have I be the instigator of. But it's the mansion incident particularly that comes back to haunt me (for a long time one of my fondest memories), its a burden of my conscience that I didn't even know I had, but then again today is my day of self discovery.  
  
It's the day I sold my soul, sold my humanity, sold others lives that is perhaps the source of this inner turmoil I feel. Embarrassment and pity are what spring to mind. Who am I kidding? It's deeper than that, it's plain regret. I'm sure you amused to hear that I regret something but I do, and finally I'm not afraid to admit it. I regret what I did, betrayal is the worst thing you can do to someone, to betray them, especially when they completely and utterly trust your word and judgement. But betray them I did, just for my own selfish means, my own personal gain. I sent my subordinates (I can hardly call them friends) to die, to die for God sake.. and they followed my orders in good faith. They had family, likes, dislikes, personalities, they were people not statistics, but I didn't care, I ignored that they were people. Greed and power corrupted what little part of me was not already rotten, and now I'll die for it. And indirectly because of my actions a whole town, a WHOLE town was eventually wiped out. I'm evil to the very core, a coward, a liar, a betrayer... it makes me wonder why should I have lived on whilst they died.  
  
I suppose that's why I 'despise' Chris, he reminds me of everything I'm not. He reminds me that there is some good in the world I turned my back so readily upon, and that just fuelled my hate. Friendly, trustful, moralistic, honest, a real humanitarian, he embodies every quality I don't have, chalk and cheese doesn't even compare to us. He's also perhaps everything I have ever aspired to be, everything I ever wanted to be, everything I never was, everything I could never be. And perhaps it was the love and admiration that people had for him that drove me to detestment, to hate. Love, that's not a word that anyone would associate with me in a million years. Love, it's something I'm not worthy of and thus something I never had. For years I've told myself that it was something I was lucky, fortunate never have to deal with as it causes weakness. But it something I desperately needed, something I was deprived of (deprived no, didn't deserve yes). Maybe if I'd had it things would have been different, very different. However they aren't, what has happened has happened, there's no changing that, it's the past and as I said I have today to face my actions and their consequences.  
  
But I can't feel sorry for myself, it's others that really deserve my pity, they're better people than me after all (I bet you never thought you'd hear me say that, how strange death is). Looking back on what I have written it scarcely seems that it has really come from me apart from the sarcasm and the tone of the text which gives it away, but as I keep saying today's a day of learning. It's odd that only in death do I learn more about how life should really be, ironic or what? Death has also caused familiar shadows of my past to reappear, shadows I thought I buried long ago. This makes me look once again at what I write and question whether it is only due to another emotion that I'm only beginning to feel that I have written it, fear. Yes fear, something I thought I'd never feel, how naive. My boldness in life has only made me fear death even more, it's something that I have no control over and so I scares me, how fittingly apt. But as I said the reason I write this is not merely for my own ends (although one main factor is probably because I need closure). The reason I write this is to show people that Albert Wesker did realise his mistakes in life (but only in death).  
  
I'm not seeking forgiveness, it'd be arrogant and selfish to even ask for it. No all I ask is that people remember that I regretted my life in the end, and all the pain and suffering I'd caused within it. Also I suppose this just goes to show that I am still a human, a man, flawed and uncertain to the very end. I just hope that you understand, that's all I can expect at most.  
  
My breath grows shorter now and my writing grows faint, I realise that the end draws close. I'll end what I write now as opposed to write until I die, I need to have this letter finished not in mid sentence when I'm laid to rest. Death is only just around the corner and this has just made me wonder (I don't know why) if there is a God. If I'm about to meet my creator then I can die comfortably in the knowledge that my soul (if I still have one) is enslaved to the bowels of Hell for eternity (justice at last).  
  
So I close with my last words (how grand, not necessarily what I deserve). My last words are simple, don't go through life like me, if you do you'll lose everyone and everything. You'll die emotionally alone and death will be your only release and by then, it's too late.  
  
Albert Wesker- Traitor, Tyrant and man.  
  
***  
  
a/n Well I hoped that went well. I tried to make it so that although Wesker showed remorse it didn't stray too far from character he is (or if it did then it gave reasons as to why), how'd I do?. I've also wondered if I should do some other chapters for this story but on other RE characters deaths (e.g Ada might make a good one), tell me whose thoughts you'd like to see. Reviews comments, etc greatly appreciated.  
  
Also I don't know if I'll change this fic as maybe it was a bit rushed and thus needs improving. 


	2. Death Of A Spy

Category: Resident Evil Title: Reflections Author: fan_fic_wtiter_uk E-mail: fan_fic_writer_uk@yahoo.uk Rating: PG-13 (changed it) Language: English  
  
Note- I don't own RE (bet that gave you a heart attack)  
  
a/n Hmmm haven't written something here for a rather long time. Well it was only going to really be a one shot fic despite what I said... but I guess, as usual, I changed my mind. People seemed to like the idea that the 'baddies' of the RE series could in fact actually have regrets on death and that has encouraged me to continue. Not quite sure about it but eventually I might write some thoughts and reflections for the 'goodies' of RE on death... I've already got a few ideas for some of them already and it could be just as interesting.  
  
Okay well here goes with chapter two,  
  
Chapter Two: Death Of A Spy  
  
***  
  
Blood... it's everywhere. Seeping, no more like flowing, from a gaping wound in my chest as I lay sprawled out on this hotel floor. There's no point phoning for help.... it's too late I know, professional opinion tells me it's fatal. So what would be the point anyway? Struggle to a phone, barely be able to call for help and die anyway? I think not I like my way much more. Anyway it's better to go like this, more peaceful, more calm. I'd rather die this way, by myself, not having all that needless fuss of the hustle and bustle of people around me trying desperately to save my life in vain. No alone is good, more me, no perhaps that's wrong (prehaps? I should know), more Ada. But then again Ada is me, isn't she? Well not quite. Sometimes I think that the woman I've become is not the girl I once was. We all grow, we all change but we don't turn into what I have. A treacherous emotionless leach, a woman who would do practically anything and everything for information, for the mission. Anything.. that produces a wry smile from me. Anything is how I got myself here, sleeping with yet another researcher, in yet another hotel room for yet some more information. I guess the guy knew I was from Umbrella, or at least that I was a spy. That or he's very cautious about sleeping with someone. And what was the result of this, the information I acquired was hardly groundbreaking, hardly going to shake up my employer. That leads me to wonder what the result of my career with this wretched company is. Prestige? Fame? Further advancement up the Umbrella corporate ladder? Nope in the end just a rather painful, pitiful death. Forgive my dry humour, it just seems appropriate to me given the circumstances.  
  
So what have I really accomplished? Not much. I Never made real friends, never had a real lover, I just threw myself whole-heartedly into my *work*. I was raised an orphan and determined to make something of myself... I guess I failed when it comes to that. Another *major* thing that my life has been void of is the experience of what one might call true love (an hour ago I would have scorned at such a thing... guess dying makes it easier to believe... like with God except I haven't gone that far nor will I). There was him of course, and there might have been something there between us but even now I can't be sure. The time we had together was too short and now it's too late to find out what could have been, not that I ever would have done, I could never have faced him again, and I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted me to, too painful. I do wonder if, but for the intervention I suffered, I would have killed him for that sample... I just don't know. I don't think I would have if I was forced to make a decision on it.... and that really does surprise me. Never have I had a problem with killing anyone despite how well I've had to get to know them... guess I must be soulless. Friends or colleges, enemies or lovers, the trigger was all too easy for me to pull. Some of them may have even loved me and yes I did feel sorry occasionally (hear that... occasionally) for deceiving them and for many of their consequential deaths because of that deception, but it was bearable somehow. With him though it was just... different. Maybe it was the fact that he was willing to help me without expecting anything in return, that was nice. He was innocent too, and he seemed real to me in a person sense... someone uncorrupted, biased or 'bent', a quality found far too little in my job or my life. Maybe it was infatuation.. he was cute I guess in a boyish sense.... I just don't know what was so special to me about Leon, he was just another person after all. Anyway why am I brooding on it? He's probably happy with that girl who was with him... I'm sure I don't remain in his thoughts except as a distant memory.  
  
Anyway even if I do have a place in his thoughts he thinks I'm dead... another person I have fooled. What he didn't know was about the experimental injections I'd had before being sent on the mission to Raccoon city....minor strains of the virus. They saved my life....my body tissue repaired rather rapidly due to them and so I recovered and escaped. However they were just that...experimental injections and on closer research I'm in fact lucky to be alive. They should have killed me, they have done so to practically all the over 'test subjects' who were given them. I guess I was rather fortunate to live... but for what? They were only designed for short- term use and thus my body has killed the virus within it and so I'm human. I should've died there, it probably would have been better than like this.  
  
What's the point in going over what might have been? I've got little time as it is. I don't know if I should be happy or angry that my wound was caused by someone who is of my skill, deliberately initiated so as to allow a slow painful death (but not so slow as to be able to get help). A stab wound to the chest, knifed while I slept in the bed after doing the 'deed'. Normally I don't, sleep that is, I guess this time I got complacent... and now I'm going to pay for it. I had planned to creep out in the early hours and thus make my escape... but he already had other ideas. Wordlessly he did it, saw me wake as he drove that blade in to me, undoubtedly piercing some vital organ or another. Saw the fear in my eyes too (well I guess I must have shown fear) as he covered my mouth. Twisted the knife expertly, keeping my mouth tightly shut as he did so to prevent an instinctive scream. Removed it and discarded it a few metres from me and then left the room, ever the silent professional. I knew as he left and the initial shock wore off that it was too late... I was as good as dead. I could have shouted out but didn't as I've said there was no point to put myself through needless fuss.  
  
And that leads me to now, blood draining from my body and the room spinning before my eyes. It's rather amazing I'm still writing coherently.. guess it's just the need I've got to get this stuff off my chest. The paper is blood soaked and torn, but still I write. Rather peculiar it was on the bedside table... maybe he had a premonition about me, I guess it's rather common for even a person like me to need release from all those nagging worries and doubts, feelings and emotions that rule us right until before we die. When they find me I doubt this will be readable, it wouldn't surprise me though if this room doesn't get torched before that can happen... it would destroy the room and any evidence along with it. I wouldn't be visibly identifiable either and I no longer appear on any national record file so I would be virtually untraceable via dental records. Not that that is at all important, my grave would go untended to even if it was given one, as I said I don't exactly have many friends.  
  
I'm ready for death now though, suddenly it seems so much easier an option. Maybe it is because the colour is draining form the room and my head feels like it is crashing in on itself. As I've said I've got no religious convictions, fe moral ones either, none of that heaven and hellfire nonsense for me. If God and that does exist I've already chose my destination within that spiritual limbo... but at present I just don't give a damn. I can even see myself that my personality has held on right until the end... angry and crude, it's only increased by the events that have happened. I guess that will be one advantage of death, I will be able to lose this cloth of a personality from around me, prehaps like I'm doing now. No longer will I have to be Ada, always distrustful, cautious and emotionless but instead I will be free. I guess that is the beauty of death for me... no matter how it was caused the result of my demise will be utter release from the pain of life for me. Now I can let myself fly above everything and get lost in completely nothing, no worries, no pretence to keep up... just truth encased in nothingness... freedom from this body at last.  
  
***  
  
a/n Okay well that was it, hope you liked it. Also I hope it didn't get too repetitive like Wesker's death and this is a reason why I plan to do the good guys deaths as it will add some variety to the fic. Well as ever comments and views and constructive criticism are welcome.  
  
Dan 


End file.
